thy love

it is both,
the calm of the setting sun,
rage of several fires,
sweet ring of springs,
thunderous gush of rivers.
A force that beckons us,
onto a forward march,
into this brick kiln
and then it tears me apart,
a pull that pushes down,
a push that pulls upwards,
it is my kingly crown,
this song I’ve never heard.

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3 thoughts on “thy love

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